Alex vs Helen
by Atanvarne
Summary: A fangirl takes on Helen for the love of Paris. Ding, ding.


A.N. This was just a little bit of fun, I know it's a blatant self-insert Mary-Sue so please don't review just to point that out. It was also started several years ago, but I only recently decided how to end it. And it's actually more true to the Iliad than Troy, because Cassandra appears instead of Briseis. Despite all this, enjoy!

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_**ALEX vs HELEN**_

One particularly sweltering hot day, Helen of Troy sought peace in a little garden she called her own. Sap dripped off the rapidly dehydrating leaves. Helen herself had to take a fan whenever she ventured outdoors, and she had grown up in almost as extreme a climate.

From the shadows between a large bush and the far wall emerged a female figure. Too tall and curved for a child, but not as developed as Helen. On the brink of womanhood, thought the former Queen of Sparta as the stranger made her way over.

When she came within hearing distance, Helen decided to at least be hospitable.

"Greetings. I don't believe I've seen you before."

"You haven't. I am Alex. For many days have I travelled to reach this magnificent place," she indicated the city view spread before them, "and to find you."

"Me? Whatever for?" Helen asked, perplexed. She was in great demand by most men, rarely young women. Unless they were looking for advice, most people her gender stuck to envious gossip.

"I wished to see whom I contend with for Paris' heart," Alex put simply.

Helen, furious and gobsmacked at the same time, could do nothing but stare open-mouthed. Alex was not impressed. This was the competition? Obviously Paris needed some time to get to grips with the situation.

"Of course, he intends to leave you and come live with me. It is only fair that I give you a chance to say goodbye. Forever. Shall I fetch him?" Alex made to leave. A small throaty whisper came from behind her.

"No," said Helen.

Alex's eyes narrowed. "What?"

Helen cleared her suddenly dry throat and tried again. "Paris is MY lover, not yours or anybody else's. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal. Paris is, in fact, MY lover, not yours."

"That's not what I said and you know it!"

"Yes, I know what you said," smirked Alex," but I make a point of not repeating lies."

Helen shook with anger. "He will not go with you. He loves me!"

"Aww, is that what he told you? You should know by now that a man will say anything to get a desirable woman. But if you truly believe that, very well." Alex produced a leather riding glove (over 2500 years before they were invented) and slapped Helen rather forcefully across the face with it.

Then, Helen lost it completely.

"Anywhere, anytime, bitch!" she screamed.

"Main Square. Noon tomorrow." Alex left through a side door, leaving Helen fuming in her peaceful little garden.

----------Noon tomorrow----------

A crowd had assembled to watch the duo battle for their youngest prince's affections. King Priam and all his advisors were present, along with Paris' brother Hector, Hector's wife Andromache and their infant son Astyanax. Paris' prophetic sister Cassandra was in attendance also, but if she knew the outcome of the match already, she kept quiet about it. Various other courtiers and peasants sat in anticipation. Bards and scribes had set up small workstations to record details of the event, should it prove historically important.

In their separate pre-fight rooms (store rooms currently empty of grain, cloth and other storable things), the quarreling pair awaited the resounding boom of the danger bell. When it sounded, thundering echoes half-deafening the citizens, both amateur warriors headed towards their fate.

Halting in opposite corners of the "arena", they shed outer garments and donned different coloured headscarves so those people in the back of the hastily erected stands could tell who was who. Much to Helen's dismay, she was handed a pink scarf. Glancing at her foe, she saw her choose a forest green one from a huge stack.

"Why don't I get to choose the colour I am represented by?" Helen demanded of her attendant. The old man shrugged and continued with his favourite pastime; drooling over Helen's body. She slapped him, mainly for practice, but also because he was a disgusting pervert. He left, only to pursue her with his eyes when he reached a safe distance. Helen was left alone in her corner.

"What am I to do?" she asked Aphrodite, her favourite goddess.

"Don't ask me, I'm with Alex on this one. You were a gift to Paris, for deeming me most beautiful of all the goddesses, not a privilege," came a delicate voice, followed by what sounded like every god on Mount Olympus laughing at her. Helen really was all alone. And it was all Alex's fault. Helen was ready. This mere girl was no match for herself. She was going down.

An impartial stablehand stood in the centre of the square, addressing the audience. "Ladies, gentlemen, nobles and royalty. Today we bear witness to..." he began, cut off by a bout of raucous swearing and calls of "get on with it!" from the crowd.

He scowled and started again. "Today we bear witness to what will undoubtedly be a contest to remember. Two women. One man. Who will..." he stopped again upon being pelted with grapes and figs.

Protecting his head with his hands, he continued loudly, "who will win our fair prince's heart? Will it be... Helen, ex-queen of Sparta?"

A polite spattering of applause from the women Helen called gossips. Wolf whistles from the men.

"Or... Alex, sent by the gods themselves to save our prince from the clutches of evil?"

Cheers, stamping of feet, a standing ovation and a mexican wave.

"Time will tell. Right ladies," he ran away, calling over his shoulder, "go!"

Alex advanced on the woman opposite her. They were about the same height but had quite different builds. Helen was slender, shapely and a complete stranger to manual labour. However, Alex had not spent her entire life under a parasol. She played some ball sports and ran a cross country every year, so even though people called her lazy, she had the upper hand here. If only my old coaches could see me now, Alex thought. They didn't believe I'd ever survive without at least five hours a day at my computer. But here I am, 3200 years from home, battling a Trojan princess.

Helen was on a completely different track of thought, trying to remember past hand to hand combat she had seen. Back then she was just a spectator, now it was the real thing. She attempted to recall how the fighters had looked before making a specific move, the tricks they used. It was hopeless. Everything she knew leaked out of her sieve-like mind when she saw the girl charging towards her.

Like a bull, Helen thought. Large, loud and forever wanting things they couldn't get at, like those red flags people waved in front of them. In this case it wasn't a flag, but a man. A very handsome man. Her man. Spurred on by ruthless desire, Helen also charged.

They were hurtling toward each other, too fast to stop. In the middle they collided with a sickening crunch. Fists flew, connecting with anything and everything. The crowd shouted encouragement to their favourites.

"Have you no honour?" yelled King Priam at one point. "Helen, don't let her beat you!"

"You can't win! Pull out before she humiliates you!" Hector contradicted is father's judgement.

"Stop this! Someone's going to get hurt!" Andromache fretted. The crowd turned and stared at her.

"Um...darling? Isn't that obvious?" whispered Hector.

"Sorry," she whispered back, then said the same to the crowd.

Everyone turned back to the battle, which was intensifying. Helen landed a punch on Alex's nose, then took a knee to the gut. Alex swung Helen around by her hair before having the wind kicked out of her. On and on it went, Apollo's fiery chariot slowly crawling across the sky.

Just then, Helen took a serious blow to the facial area.

"My... my beautiful face!" Helen felt her nose click. "You broke my nose! It's on, bitch!" Helen went into a frenzy of random movements, flailing wildly in every direction.

From the back of the arena... town square... thing, the spectators could see little but the flashes of pink and grove green as the two ladies went head to head. It seemed as if the fight was going towards the lady in green as she spun and darted this way and that to confuse her enraged opponent, the dumb blonde in pink. Punches flew from both sides as birds from a tree, but the elder of the two was faster than she appeared. Helen grabbed the hurtling wrist of the younger, willowy form and twisted. A yelp of pain escaped Alex's grimacing lips as Helen brutally dug her nails into soft flesh.

"See?" said Helen. "Having long nails is an advantage that I'm willing to play on."

"You utter lunatic," retorted Alex. "Do you honestly think I will stop because of a few mere scratches?"

"From where I'm standing, the court looks much redder on your side."

Alex gasped and looked down in time to see another drop of crimson blood drip from her wrist to join the others, in the ever-growing pool that spouted from her veins.

"The love of a good man heals all wounds," she said, and even in her pain she managed a smirk.

No words were necessary, the expression on Helen's face as she dropped the hand and stepped back to consider another attack was enough for Alex. Seizing this opportunity for further taunting, she circled the heavily-breathing Helen.

"Yes, he picked me. You were but a gift from the Goddess Aphrodite, and now even she has abandoned you. Pray for your life. If you kill me, it will be taken as treachery against the royal family!"

"Paris is mine," came the quiet, but determined, answer.

"Sorry darling, but you're in Lalaland now. If you're lucky you'll get a padded cell, so you can't bludgeon yourself to death before my future father-in-law gets a chance to sentence you!"

"MINE!" screamed Helen as she backhanded Alex.

"MINE!" screamed Alex as she fronthanded Helen.

"MINE!" screamed Helen as she whacked Alex in the shin with a well-aimed kick.

"MINE!" screamed Alex as she hurled herself on top of Helen, forcing her to the ground. "By all the power of the gods, I command your frail, brittle bones to shatter! Dieting cannot save you now my dear, in fact it will destroy you!"

With all her dwindling strength Helen rolled, causing Alex now to be forced against the cold hard stone. It was true that she weighed almost nothing, so there was nothing to stop Alex throwing Helen off her again.

They circled, much like the crows that flew overhead. Helen lunged again, so out of breath that her weak punch collided with the air about two metres short of the intended target, Alex's forehead. Helen collapsed onto the bloodied ground. Alex waited, too proud to finish Helen off while she lay helpless. The crowd egged her on.

"What are you waiting for? Do it now!"

"She's just lying there! Go for it!"

"What's happening?" came another voice, somehow drowning out all others. It was Paris himself, rubbing his eyes and looking confused. "Will someone kindly inform me as to what is going on?"

The crowd could only stare from their youngest prince to the motionless fighters below and back again. Paris, perplexed, went to Priam's side.

"Father?"

Priam pointed to the pair, one standing, one lying on the spattered earth. Paris headed towards them, curiosity mounting. When he got within speaking distance, he realised who the contestants were.

"Alex?"

Alex turned her head to Paris, a broad grin spreading across her face.

"Helen?"

Helen, remarkably, stood shakily and half-grimaced half-smiled at him.

"What are you doing?" Paris was distraught.

"Fighting for you, my dear one," said Helen.

"This idiot could not accept our love, so I challenged her to a fight," said Alex.

"I told you before, he's mine, bitch!" yelled Helen.

"And I told you before, you are sadly mistaken. Paris is my lover, and there's nothing you can do that will drive us apart. Isn't that right, Paris?"

"Don't look at me. This isn't my quarrel," said Paris, backing hastily away.

Everyone stared at him. A small cough came from somewhere in the stands that sounded suspiciously like "it's-completely-your-quarrel-you-stupid-git". Paris looked at the two women before him. Their clothes were torn, they were both bleeding and filthy. He was dismayed. Helen did not look even remotely like the spectacular beauty she was before, and Alex's features were so caked in dirt he could not distinguish anything but her blue-grey eyes.

Alex coughed slightly. "Paris, you are renowned for your good judgement. I can forgive your only mistake in life - choosing Aphrodite, and thereby Helen, as the fairest of all, and bestowing upon her the cunningly planted golden apple. My love, you should have chosen Athena. She offered you victory in every battle you fought, which would have helped some with this whole war business Helen started... though I suppose that wouldn't even have come about if you hadn't chosen the goddess that represented her in the first place-"

Helen cut her off. "My love, my prince. You saved me from that oaf Menelaus my parents forced me to marry. You love me, and I you. Who the hell is this cow to waltz in and stake all claim to you? Say you only know her in passing, and she is quite insane, for that will gladden my heart, and we can forget about all this. Bruises and cuts, they will heal, but if you stand there, and tell me all that she says is true? I cannot forgive such a violation of trust and love. But I know you'll always choose-"

Alex broke a chair over Helen's head, knocking her out cold. Paris whistled.

"You'll have to teach me how to do that, it's near impossible to shut her up once she starts."

"You won't need to learn, Paris. I'm taking you back with me."

"Back? Back where?"

"Back... to the future!" And with that, Alex and Paris set out through the Skaian Gate on their new life together, but were mercilessly slaughtered by the Greek army camped on the shore.

Happy endings all around.

_The End_


End file.
